


The Farthest Outreach

by vampirecaligula



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Crimes & Criminals, Family, Gen, M/M, Steampunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-12
Updated: 2012-12-12
Packaged: 2017-11-21 01:38:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/591986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vampirecaligula/pseuds/vampirecaligula
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SF/Fantasy AU – In the far-flung future, there are natural differences in societal, political, cultural norms. But there are always pirates, and there are always criminals, and just like families (because there are always families), these people are willing to sacrifice everything for each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fare You Well

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for the 2012 Nordic Jul Fest on livejournal, hosted by livejournal user coeurgryffondor. The fill was written for lj user shadows_in_mind and her request was Norway, Denmark, and Iceland as a family, no other requirements.
> 
> I kind of went a little wild. ^^;
> 
> wow i'm sorry i didn't mean for this to get quite so long! i was originally just going to go for a standard human AU and do something fluffy, christmas-y, you know? but then i decided NOPE that's far too boring. so i hammered this out instead. many thanks to tumblr user lil-spyro for being absolutely fantastic and beta'ng and suffering through my continuous complaints about this product of my blood, sweat and tears. i hope you enjoy!

**1 – Present**

Perhaps the problem, Mathias thought, lay not in Lukas's sense of duty, but in a simple aversion to dirtying his hands. Dressed up in a captain's regalia of blue and gold, an inconspicuous steel crosspin holding his hair in place, and a feathered hat on his head, he certainly looked the part.

"Nobody understands better than I do what is at stake," Lukas was saying, his hands delicately folded on the desk before him. "I've considered the problem from all angles and I have refused. That is the long and short of the matter."

"Lukas," Mathias began to interrupt, but Lukas held up a hand to stop him.

"Let our patrons speak for themselves, Mr. Køhler."

The patron in question, a large Turk of questionable motives, opened his mouth to make his argument. Mathias hazarded a guess at what it would contain: the government, Lukas's obvious position of authority, the web of lies that mysteriously entangled themselves around Bondevik and Køhler wherever they went, human rights. It was indeed startlingly rare for a citizen's complaint _not_ to involve one of those topics.

Mathias never got the chance to confirm his guess, though, for as soon as Lukas had ceased speaking one of the cabin boys entered the office. "Sir," he said. "I need to speak with you. Urgently."

The cabin boy went by Emil with no father's surname to follow. Mathias had offered his own once, but had been politely declined.

"Not now, Emil," Mathias began to say, but Lukas cut him off.

"How urgently?" he inquired.

"Urgently, sir."

There was silence for a moment (an angry one, in the Turk's case) as Emil and Lukas read each other's minds, communicating through gaze and body tension alone in that strange way they did.

Lukas returned his attention to the disgruntled patron. "Sir. I am terribly sorry for the inconvenience, rest assured that you will be fully reimbursed. If you'll please excuse us."

"I-"

"Let me elaborate. If you won't leave, I will have to have my man Køhler here remove you. Believe me when I say that neither of us wants that."

With an ominous "This isn't over," the Turk left the room, the door shutting with a thuggish bang behind him. There was a beat after he left, and then the dynamic in the room took a sharp turn.

Mathias collapsed into a chair near the porthole, breathing like a sailor at work. "I hate people," he said.

Emil sat too, on the other side of the desk. "Not as much as I do."

Lukas leaned back in his chair, kicking his feet in their shining boots up on the desk. "I like them."

Mathias howled with laughter while Emil smirked.

"No, really." He picked up one of the pens, watching as it glinted in the electric light. "Fascinating creatures, all of us. Haven't you ever sat down and really _thought_ , really examined their actions and motives and what happens when those carefully-wrought patterns are violated? It's incredible."

"You're such a damn philosopher," Mathias told him as he reached beneath the seat for the beer he'd abandoned. It was half gone already, but there was more in the cupboard by the bookcase. "I don't care about your holier-than-thou attitudes, I just want my cut. Thanks for the rescue, Em."

"Anytime."

Mathias was the first to admit that Emil's and Lukas's voices never changed in regard to emotions. However, when you've spent more years than you can count with a couple of guys, you tend to learn a lot about them. How to tell when Emil was being serious as opposed to, for example, _deadly_ serious was one of those. Mathias sat up, beer bottle dangling from his hand, and said, "That wasn't just a rescue, huh?"

"Of course not." Emil replied as if Mathias were the stupidest person in the seven galaxies. "I couldn't care less what the hell you two get up to when I'm not around, and that includes dealing with the consequences of whatever scheme _he's_ cooked up."

"My schemes," Lukas said, dipping the pen into a well and letting the ink bleed across his crisp gloves, "are genius."

"Well, thanks to your genius I've learned a thing or two about vessels and their engines, so I can confidently announce that there's a problem with the one on Deck Minus-Three."

They'd been on this ship barely more than two weeks, on route from the Robroun Crescent through Ginnungagap. Their destination was a black market port on Nedertcher, in Muspell, run by some pirates who were offering a good price for the cruise ship's cargo. Mathias had let Lukas and Emil handle the situation; he was good at muscle, cooking, and keeping them sane, and that was the way he liked it. Making tricky deals with merchants whose words were more slippery than their oiled beards was something the other two were good at. Lukas was best, of course, so Lukas did the talking while Mathias held men at gunpoint and Emil snapped his fingers to sabotage the enemy's vehicle. They made a good team. The best team. There was a reason they were wanted across a whole galaxy and hadn't yet been caught.

The only thing Mathias hated more than reasoning, though, was ignorance. He wasn't a bad engineer himself. So he made a point to always have a decent idea of what was going on even if he wouldn't need it, thus he knew that Deck -3 was the first of three levels of engines that kept the ship moving, temperature-controlled, fed, watered, and – perhaps most importantly – ventilated.

A problem on Deck -3 meant that there was a problem with the plan.

Mathias took it upon himself to express eloquently the thought that crossed all of their minds: "Well, shit."

"I tried rewiring the circuits," Emil said, followed by more technical mumbo-jumbo that Mathias half understood. For as much as he liked to talk about having taught Emil everything he knew, he wasn't confident in the mechanics of a cruise engine.

"And none of that worked?"

"Nothing I tried. I think something's fucked up somewhere deep inside, where me and the other engineers can't get to it."

Lukas didn't seem too concerned, but Mathias recognized the look in his eyes. "I see. Interesting."

"I'd hope so," Emil went on, "since it involves our lives."

Lukas cleared his throat and held his hand out for Mathias's beer, which Mathias didn't give. Son of a bitch could get his own alcohol. "You said you couldn't fix it, Emil?"

"Given adequate time and tools and a proper engineering team? I probably could." Emil sounded a little insulted. "But I don't have any of that. Unless we S.O.S. or the bastards fix themselves, I'd say we have a problem."

"This sounds pretty bad," Mathias said.

"It _is_ pretty bad. I'm talking our propellers cutting out in the middle of the 'Gap, followed shortly by everything else. Air goes out maybe an hour later, if the 'Gap doesn't get us first."

The idea of entering Ginnungagap with no engines to get them to the other side was a somber one.

"So, then," Mathias broke the silence, "what do we do?"

"We fix it," Lukas said. "Climb inside if necessary, I suppose."

"What about an S.O.S.? Isn't that the _obvious_ solution?"

Lukas nodded toward the large radar dominating one wall. "We're too close to the 'Gap," he said. "Nobody comes down this way. We'd be inside before anyone could arrive."

Emil exclaimed, "You're telling me to climb inside of a damaged engine?"

"Not in as many words. We've all risked our lives before, Emil."

"Sometimes because Lukas tells us to," Mathias added wisely. Lukas nodded.

"You're a crazy fucker." Emil decided.

"Language," Lukas gently reprimanded. "I don't know what goes on in the engine rooms, but here you'll behave to your place."

"I think someone's letting this captain shit get to his head," Mathias grumbled, to Emil, setting his empty bottle on the sidetable. He'd get another, but he hadn't heard Lukas's master plan yet and wanted to be sober for it, just in case.

"I think someone's a crazy fucker."

"You said that already."

"And I'll keep saying it until it stops being true."

"You always were stubborn like that," Lukas mused. He set the pen down on the table and pulled his gloves off, finger by finger. "It was what I liked about you."

If Mathias had expected a snarky comeback from Emil, he was disappointed. Emil instead remained strangely subdued, his gaze boring holes into the ornate walnut desk. Emil had never liked being complimented, he didn't know how to react.

"Wasn't the only thing, I mean," Lukas continued. He seemed not to notice the mood in the room suddenly change as Emil tried to become one with his chair. "I liked your willingness to learn, how your feet were quick and your head quicker. You had a bad habit of running off and getting into trouble when you were young, but nothing good  
ever happens to those who don't search for it."

"Thank you?" Emil said. He was about as disturbed by Lukas's sudden goodwill as Mathias was, it seemed – that Lukas favored the boy was by no means a secret, especially not to Mathias, but it was strange that he chose to express it in front of Emil.

"It's the truth. I don't tell the truth  
enough, now's as good a time to start as any."

"We're not gonna die, Luk." Mathias chuckled. "You don't need to start getting sappy on us."

"I'm not being sappy, I'm saying things I probably should have said long ago. If we die, you'll die knowing my mind. If not, then we've had a positive learning experience about each other. I think it's a win-win situation."

Emil and Mathias exchanged a glance. They knew Lukas, and while win-win situations were definitely within his character, positive learning experiences were not. Not the way the rest of the world defined it; the only _positive learning experiences_ Emil cared to remember had left him with second-degree burns on his arm. Upon questioning, Lukas would deny regret for that particular experience.

Lukas was an odd duck. Hostile on a regular basis; their history with him even supported this assessment – so what would make him speak his soul now?

* * *

**2** **–** **Past**

Mathias had met Lukas because the latter tried to kill him.

Succeeded, actually: Mathias had woken up in a field hospital with bitching headache and a knife wound in his chest. Only the advances of modern medicine had managed to bring him back, though he hadn't been grateful at the time. See, he was stabbed in the first place because he'd stolen something pretty important, and Lukas wanted it back.

Mathias had sat up and immediately demanded to know where that cube had gone. It was a little cube, made of bronze with brass detailing across the sides that was the writing of some long-gone civilization. A language none but the poorest scholars spoke, a civilization back on Old Earth that no one cared about anymore. Funny, how big a deal Mathias's people had made out of their planet's history. Now, put into context of the seven galaxies, it seemed so small and insignificant that it barely even mattered. There had been no point paying attention to that class, so Mathias did not miss it.

None of the nurses had seen the cube, they suspected he must have lost it out in the field. Musn't go back out there, they said. There's a war on, they said. "They say you only live once," Mathias had replied, "and I've just disproved that shit, so I think I'm gonna go out and find it." The nurses hadn't been pleased, but he wasn't their responsibility.

He didn't find Lukas easily. Hadn't expected to, to be honest. But there was a lot of money riding on that little artifact and blond effeminates with black eyes were rare on this planet. Someone, somewhere, had to have seen him.

Eventually he _did_ find him, and Lukas tried to stab him again in broad daylight. Mathias was ready with makeshift armor this time, and his bigger stature combined with Lukas's malnourishment ensured the battle went in his favor. He pinned Lukas on the floor of an icy, freezing warehouse. Before he bashed the kid's cranium and left him for dead, however, he noticed that his eyes weren't actually black. Just a deep blue, like the farest reaches of Outer Space. Mathias missed his deadline and half his pay was rescinded as a penalty, but he accomplished his mission.

Never forgot the kid with eyes that burned like a nebula, though.

A month went by, and then another month, and then Mathias was being held at gunpoint in an alley on _another fucking planet_ by that same kid.

"This has got to be some sort of destiny," Mathias grunted, trying to make light of his deathbed. There was still a war on, but there weren't any kind nurses this time.

"Maybe you should stop running from it," Lukas had suggested.

"That's no fun."

"It's not supposed to be fun. It's Fate. She doesn't like being crossed."

And then it had made a lot more sense, except not really. Mathias just wanted to be able to say he'd had some big revelation about Lukas's personality when he found out the kid was religious.

"Hey, here's an idea," Mathias said. "How about you put down your knife and I buy you a drink or something? Won't deny a dead man his last wish, would you?"

"I would."

"Don't then. I'm bigger than you, stronger than you, and the only thing stopping you from being roadkill is a quick date. You've gotta admit that's a good deal." He was buying himself time, honestly, trying to assess Lukas's position and grip on the gun in the dark. It was pretty obvious by now that Lukas was a trained killer, if the people who'd told Mathias how to find him were any indication, and he didn't want to assume too much too fast. Had to figure out which trick would do what.

Also, he wanted to buy Lukas a drink.

"I have a gun," Lukas replied, calmly, coolly. A man who kept his head while bantering with his prey was dangerous. "I'll use it."

"I'm sure you will. Never said you wouldn't. Say, who's got the contract on me, anyway?"

"What?"

"You know what I'm talkin' about. Someone wants me dead, who is it?"

". . . Buy me that drink and I'll tell you."

"Deal."

Mathias had bought him the drink, because Mathias was a man of his word. That was the one thing he carried with him throughout his life; he was a scoundrel and a thief and a womanizer and a murderer, too, but he never lied. Merely creatively omitted the truth.

They talked of many things, of shipwrecks and sealing wax and cabbages and kings, and how strange it was that Lewis Carroll was one of the few writers that survived through Old Earth's last year as one of the greatest civilizations to exist in the first galaxy.

The kid with blue eyes held his drink delicately and sat up straight as he named himself Lukas Bondevik, freelance assassin and damn good at it, too. He didn't say how old he was, or where he was from, or even where he was going. Only that he worked for the highest bidder, sometimes more than one at a time. The highest bidder right now was a nobleman from some rich circle Mathias didn't bother to remember, who was after his ex-wife.

"Is she hot?" Mathias had asked.

Lukas shrugged. "Objectively. But I am an excellent assassin, and I have a reputation to uphold. I don't involve myself with the targets or those who want them dead."

"Why are you getting involved with me, then?" Did he wink? He probably winked, Mathias was a winker back then.

"I'm the one who initiated the contract. Therefore, in my spare time I'm allowed to do as I please."

* * *

**3 – Past**

Lukas apparently called his type _street rats_ when he was being kind. When he was being himself, they became _stinking, conniving wretches who should be tossed out of an airlock_. Mathias didn't share these sentiments, and for that, Emil had been grateful.

"Shouldn't you still be in grade school. . . ?" Lukas asked. He'd been justified in that question; Emil had always been oddly clean, oddly well-dressed. His hair stayed trim and he was polite and well-mannered, certainly didn't fit the description Lukas was used to.

"Aw, c'mon Lukas, give the kid some credit. It's not every day a stowaway brings a ship out of the sky using blackmail."

Emil tried not to look at them, instead keeping his eyes trained on the ceiling in an attempt to preserve some dignity. He was trussed up like common criminal to a ladder that didn't go anywhere in particular, his face and hands streaked with black oil and grease and just a tiny bit of blood. Not his blood. It was Mathias's blood that had stuck in his fingernails when he'd clawed across the man's face, trying to get free from his inhumanly strong grasp.

"You're right about that," Lukas mused, his eyes steely. "He's too smart for his own good."

Mathias had scoffed, then reassured Emil, "Don't worry 'bout him. Lukie just doesn't like being outdone, he'll warm up to ya."

"He's not a _pet_ , Mathias."

"You're right, he's a kid, and a damn clever one at that. What's your name, kid?"

Emil had refused to speak. He didn't speak much back then.

Lukas crossed his arms. "We aren't keeping him."

Mathias had mimicked the posture. It seemed to only make Lukas madder. "What do we do with him, then?"

"There's a city a few miles east of here. Zeppelins, automatons. Old-fashioned place, but good for someone with his abilities. He can make it there."

"You seem to be forgetting that there's the fucking Rudrani Forest in between here and there."

"I didn't take you for the superstitious type, Mathias."

"It's not superstition," Mathias retorted, "and you damn well know it. I'm not going to let a ten-year-old walk through legions of the undead because you can't swallow your fucking pride."

"I'm twelve," Emil asserted.

"He speaks!"

"Regardless of how old he is," Lukas said, trying to retake control of the conversation, "he's not getting any favors from me."

Mathias took Lukas aside then, gently placing a hand on his upper arm and whispering in his ear.  
Lukas's expression never softened, his body tension never changed. Emil didn't remember noticing any difference at all. But when Mathias was finished, Lukas hissed something back and turned on his heel, heading deeper into their beat-up craft that was barely spaceworthy. Honestly, they should be _thanking_ Emil for disabling the engine. It might have sputtered out in the middle of some star cluster somewhere and then where would they be?

Then it was just he and Mathias, alone in the brig.

Mathias sat down and crossed his legs, chuckling and muttering to himself in some language Emil would need to learn. "You'll get used to him," he said. "I did. Took me a goddamned year but I climbed that whole mountain."

There was  
something about Mathias that made Emil feel instantly more comfortable.

"He's a weird one," Mathias went on. "Plays by his own rules and doesn't tell you what they are. And those rules have a bad habit of changing depending on certain factors – you're one of those factors, you should be proud of yourself. Not to mention he says the strangest things, believes the weirdest shit, and drives like your grandmother when she's in no hurry. I let him take over, we'd never get anywhere. He doesn't have the first idea about how engines work, either, but don't tell him I said any of that. He'll have my head. The rest of me, too, but he's already got that." Mathias had winked, as if he and Emil were exchanging a private joke that Emil didn't understand yet.

"You're talking," Emil said slowly, "like you're not going to leave me here to die."

He'd accepted his fate. He was going to walk toward it with dignity and pride, and he didn't appreciate Mathias pretending otherwise.

Mathias looked confused for a moment. "Maybe. . . that's 'cause I'm not?"

"You're. . . not?"

"'Course not. You're twelve years old and managed to hotwire a machine I built myself, imagine what you could do if you got some proper learning! And I'm a big advocate for learning on the job. You're staying with us, it's a much worse punishment than Rudrani Forest."

Emil must have looked shocked, because Mathias chuckled and lowered his voice, suddenly serious.

"I can recognize someone who's had it hard from miles away, see," he said, "and you've got that look bad. One of those types who didn't fit into a mold, I bet."

He remained silent.

"Don't worry, me an' Lukas are in that category too. A category all our own. We misshapen types have to stick together, and for as abrasive as Lukas is, he believes the same as I do. It's how we're able to put up with each other. At the end of the day, we know that there's at least one other person who's in the same boat and that makes it all worthwhile."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, it does. All you gotta do is remember that no matter what Lukas says, you're gonna be important to him. I can promise you that."

Mathias held out a hand, gloved in thick, rough, leather.

"Deal?"

Emil considered it for a little while, then clasped it. His own hand looked pale and skinny and dirty; he resolved to make his hands more like Mathias's in the future. "Deal."

"Mastery. Now let's go fix that godforsaken engine you broke."

* * *

**4 – Present**

"ATTENTION, PASSENGERS," Lukas's sultry, prerecorded voice came across the loudspeakers after a smooth two-tone bell, "THIS IS YOUR CAPTAIN SPEAKING. WE HAVE NOW ENTERED THE GINNUNGAGAP; PLEASE REMAIN IN YOUR ROOMS FOR THE NEXT FEW HOURS. THANK YOU."

Through the portholes and windows, stars and planets and indigenous life forms could no longer be seen. There was only black, as if heading deeper and deeper inside a void.

"Enough banter," Emil announced, shoving his chair backward as he stood. "I'm going back to Deck Minus-Three, I've lived too long to die here."

"You're only twenty," Mathias pointed out.

One of Emil's eyebrows raised in a thin, fair line. He resembled Lukas far more than he knew. "What's your point?"

Mathias waved a hand, dismissing him. "Go on, kid. Have fun."

"Be careful," Lukas cautioned. "There's nothing you can do, if your initial report was correct."

"What happened to 'we all have to take risks'?"

"I'm allowed to contradict myself."

"Then I can contradict myself, too. I'm going to prove myself wrong." He turned on his heel and left the main cabin, disappearing into the side stair that led directly to the maintainence decks.

Lukas smiled softly, actually smiled, as he stood and went to the large monitor on the left-hand wall to finally examine the engine's readings. He seemed rather melancholous as he flipped through screen after screen of rapidly-moving numbers and letters, words that might as well be another language.

"I don't get why you're still pretending," Mathias commented. "I have a better chance at making sense of that shit than you do."

"I'm not completely ignorant, Mathias."

"And what's up with you, anyway? First all the compliments, then that smile-" the smile vanished, "-what's next? You gonna kiss me sensually in broad daylight?"

Lukas did a perfect imitation of Emil's disdainful expression. Fitting, considering Emil had got it from him in the first place.

"Well," Mathias amended, "what's supposed to be broad daylight, anyway."

Lukas's gaze went to a porthole. "Do you want me to?"

"What's that?"

"Kiss you sensually, imbecile. Do you want me to?"

That was, perhaps, the very first time in all the years they'd been together that Lukas had ever said those words. It was more than a little bit of a shock, though not a totally unwelcome one; under any other circumstance, Mathias would say yes.

But he couldn't shake the feeling that Lukas knew something he didn't.

"Luk."

"A simple yes or no will suffice."

"Lukas, what's going on?"

No answer. Mathias stood up and, in a few steps, was standing beside Lukas as the man gazed out into the black nothing. "You can tell me, you know. I don't judge, not my place."

"I'm merely concerned. For the same reasons you are, in fact." Lukas patted his shoulder. "If Emil can't fix it, odds are we're all going to die and there are a few things on my list I still haven't done yet."

Mathias wrapped an arm around Lukas's waist. "Really? Like what?"

As eloquent as he was, words had never come easily to Lukas. He bit his lip, remaining silent for a minute before replying, "Told you I love you. That I love Emil, that I'm proud of him and he should be going out into the world and making a life for himself, a real life, not one of running and theft and a makeshift family."

"You know, it's really funny," Mathias said quietly, "but did you ever consider the possibility that Emil's here because he _wants_ to be? Back on that one planet, with the blonde girl he liked. He could've left then, we wouldn't have stopped him."

"No."

"And when we were stopped on Kha-loung. He could've left then."

"True."

"And one time he _did_ leave! But you know what? He came back. There's a lot of times he could've left and chosen a different life, Luk. At some point you're going to have to acknowledge that you may be a terrible father, but you're not a _terrible_ terrible father."

Lukas didn't say anything, merely let Mathias half-hold him as the clock ticked out the seconds.

* * *

**5 – Past**

If Mathias had been on the outside looking in, his internal organs would have ruptured from laughing so damn hard. They made the oddest family in the seven galaxies, perhaps the entire universe: a known criminal who spoke with his fists, a trained assassin whose complete set of rules was understood only by him, and a kid who had managed to escape the most prestigious school for engineering that had ever existed.

Emil and Mathias somehow managed to get along from the beginning. Lukas and Emil took longer, but were thick as thieves within a few weeks; Mathias had never seen Lukas so happy or open. Sadly, that did not last; Emil's teenage years brought out a sullen, emotional, hormonal wreck that was too much like Lukas for comfortable atmosphere. At times like these, Mathias would grab a couple of beers and he and Emil would talk about how horribly Lukas was going to die at their hands.

"S'all well and good to discuss killing him," Emil said once, interrupting one such conversation, "but he's gonna be the one that kills us one day. You wait and see."

"Nah." Mathias shook his head. "He's a rotten son of a bitch, but he loves us. In his own bitter, conniving, dastardly, manipulative, dramatic, creepy . . . his own way." It was easy to speak ill of Lukas. Easier than it should have been, considering everything that had occured between the two of them. Mathias didn't like to think about their relationship, it confused him far too much, and Lukas was never any help in the area. (Secretly, Mathias believed that Lukas was just as confused as he was. Certainly explained how they could lie in bed sucking face all night and then he'd be greeted with a punch the next morning.)

"Ever ask what happened to his other family?" Emil said.

"The one he doesn't talk about?"

"Obviously."

"That's his business. I don't get involved in another man's life. Never asked why you dropped your dad's name, did I?"

Emil pursed his lips. There was a rift between  
himself and his sire, that much was obvious. "Houses don't just burn down like that," he said, not bothering to acknowledge Mathias's comment. "Not where he's from."

It had taken years of persuasion to get Lukas to confess to being from Boltheim, a small planet of Old Norwegian descent that was covered in nothing but snow. Houses, built for insulation, did not catch alight of their own accord.

"Eh," Mathias said. "It's pretty fishy, I'll give ya that. But I'm sure there's another explanation he just doesn't want to talk about."

"I'm never wrong," was Emil's reply.

"Careful, kid. You're sixteen and tipsy. You may be smarter than Luk and I put together, but you still got a lot of growing up to do."


	2. Ginnungagap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> part 2! if you've made it this far i am extremely grateful wow you rock okay.  
> this is a very science-fiction story, but i identify as a fantasy writer. thus, there are probably a lot of holes in my science knowledge – i tried to leave it very vague so as to let people theorize on their own ~~and do my work for me~~ but yeah. feel free to picture stuff however you like, but for me this is an extremely steampunky universe! that's what i get for listening to too much abney park.

**6 – Present**

"Whatever happened to her, Emil?" Lukas asked. "That girl. Liesel, was it?"

Emil's hand slipped and the wrench he was holding wacked his forehead. He yelped, rubbing at the would and dreading the bruise that would for soon.

He dragged himself, with great effort, out of the tangle of wires and metal and glared at Lukas, who was merely standing there and observing him quietly. "The hell was that for?"

"I asked a question," Lukas replied.

"You could've killed me, sneaking up like that."

"I sneak up on everyone. You should be used to it by now."

"So what?" Emil demanded. He tucked the wrench into a loop on his belt. "I'm supposed to expect you at all hours of the day? Just not be surprised when you turn up in the last place you should be?"

"Essentially."

Emil rolled his eyes. He grabbed a dirty cloth that was hanging from one of the displaced steel panels and wiped his hands off; his hands didn't look any better, but the cloth was now even more grease-stained than it had been before. "You'll be pleased to know that I haven't figured out what's wrong, much less how to fix it."

Lukas gave him an odd look. "Why would that please me?"

Emil began to answer, but then he realized there was no reason. "I don't know," he said. "It just seems like something that would please you."

"Am I so sadistic?"

"Little bit, yeah." The cloth was tossed aside, landing somewhere Emil didn't bother to note. "What are you doing down here, anyway?"

"Liesel. You fancied her a good deal, didn't you."

Liesel Zwingli was a year Emil's senior but nearly a head and a half smaller. He'd known . . . gods above, it had been years since his short-lived summer affair with her, spent staying out all night and running from her older brother. He counted that summer as one of the best in his life, one of the very few times he could remember when absolutely nothing happened. There were no policemen, no contracts, no jobs, no nosy families _still_ searching for him after all that time. Mathias and Lukas hadn't been in a fight. He could almost pretend they were normal.

Emil wasn't sure why normalcy had mattered to him so much back then. He'd spent a year on his own trying to be 'normal' and had ended up returning to Lukas and Mathias, ready to beg to be accepted back and being welcomed with surprisingly open arms. Normal, it had turned out, was drastically overrated.

"Yeah," he replied. "I did."

"Do you still?"

Emil shrugged. He wouldn't say he was pining, if that's what Lukas implied – and Liesel was far from the only person Emil had messed around with. But she was the only one he'd felt quite so strongly for. "If we went back now, I'd want to see her again. But she's a woman now, probably has a family and, and little brats running around. I'd just. . . I'd interrupt that."

Lukas nodded. "I see," he said. Emil hadn't noticed any particular mood about him when he walked in, but the contrast now made it obvious. The elder seemed more relaxed now, as if Emil's answer had contented him in some way. "I'm glad you think that," he continued.

"Why?"

"To try and involve others with our lifestyle is to put them, and ourselves, in danger. Once you've been on the road it's far too hard to settle down – not without having something follow. You have to keep moving to survive. It's one of the reasons I didn't want to bring you with us, all those years ago. Average inhabitants look down on types like us. We are unwelcome."

Emil understood. There'd been no room for him in _normal._

"Sometimes," Lukas went on, "the circumstances of living this way beg for sacrifices. Sacrifices to protect, sacrifices for pleasure. And other times. . . ." He seemed almost to be talking to himself now. This was why Emil had never liked holding conversations with Lukas. They became far too one-sided. ". . . Selfishness is the order of the day."

Emil frowned. "I don't like this."

"Hm? Like what?"

"You. It's . . . you're too weird today, Lukas."

The engine room was familiar and comforting, no matter what ship or planet it was on or what kind of engine it was. Emil hadn't noticed the loud whirring, chattering, grinding of the engines until all of that noise ceased, and they were left standing in a heavier silence than he'd ever experienced. Consoles and monitors on the huge machines went wild before flickering off abruptly; the lights went dark, then were replaced with dim, yellow, emergency electricity. Lukas's prerecorded voice sounded over the intercom again, boredly ensuring the entire ship was aware they were merely shutting down for a bit of maintainence and would be back online with a few hours.

"That does it, then," Emil said resignedly. "We're officially stuck in the center of a void."

* * *

**7 – Past**

"The hell do you mean, we've been _commissioned_?"

Lukas calmly ate the soup Mathias had made. It was good, not too spicy, but not horribly bland like the other twos' concoctions. "There's a man on Nedertcher, goes by the name of Carriedo, who's willing to pay good money if we can divert a passenger ship from its current course and back to a private port he's set up. More money than anything we've ever had put together, in fact. I told him it would be our pleasure."

"How big a passenger ship are we talking, here. . . ?" Mathias asked. Emil still hadn't acknowledged anything was going on, concerned only with his food.

"Cruise ship," Lukas said. "One of the thrill-seeker tours for pretentious assholes who can't handle the real world. Goes straight through the Ginnungagap."

Mathias dropped his spoon and Emil choked. "Ginnungagap?"

"That's what I said."

"You're not _serious_ about that-"

Lukas put his spoon down and folded his hands together. "Quite. I've wanted to go through it for a while now, I figure this is our prime opportunity. Our ship – all due respect to you Emil, of course – simply isn't sturdy enough to survive the journey."

Mathias tried to reason with him. He deserved a star for that, but he'd never been able to dissuade Lukas on matters like these. "That's one of those fucking tours that people have to sign _forms_ for, Lukas."

"We've never concerned ourselves with legal documentation before-"

"You're missing the point. I'm _trying_ to say that people go into that void, Luk, and some of 'em don't come back."

"It's completely safe, you two have sat there and calculated the science yourselves." Lukas had never been able to fathom what the appeal in such a pasttime was, but then, he never put much stock in mathematics in the first place.

"I've spent the last decade in your company, Lukas, that doesn't mean I trust your judgment."

Lukas raised an eyebrow. They all knew _that_ was bullshit.

"Oxenstierna's not behind this, is he?" Mathias asked.

"Couldn't be, Oxenstierna wouldn't risk a fly," Emil finally said.

"You'd be right about that. It's _Väinämöinen_ we're concerning ourselves with here."

Mathias let his head _thunk_ on the table. "I should've known it was him. I trust that guy even less than I trust you."

Lukas restlessly tapped his fingers. "Väinämöinen is a good friend of mine and you may not like his ideas, but I owe him my life and am working feverishly to repay that debt."

"Somehow I doubt throwing all of our lives away is going to do that."

Lukas's tone was cold. "Alright, then. If you're too scared to go then I'll tell him he can find another man to give all those bank notes to."

Mathias hated risking his life about as much as he hated money, and while Lukas's arguments still didn't quite have him convinced, it was clear he was beginning to come around.

"Let's do it."

Mathias gave Emil an incredulous look; Emil only shrugged. Had he grown up in the place intended for him, Lukas thought, Emil would have definitely been one of those pretentious thrill-seekers. Perhaps in another timeline they may have even met each other, though this time on opposite sides. Perhaps one of them would end up dead. It wouldn't be Lukas – took more than a clever engineer with a reckless streak to kill him.

* * *

**8 – Present**

The bridge, and in turn the commandeered captain's office, was almost twenty floors up from Deck -3. Even moving quickly and on the service stair it took Lukas and Emil a good deal of time to ascend. On the way they were stopped more than once by concerned passengers who wanted to know _exactly_ what was happening and why, what was wrong, what they should do – each time Lukas patiently gave them the same explanation the loudspeaker did, though he colored it with 'secret information' that ensured their confidence without saying exactly what was going on.

Lukas's words had a calming effect on the average layman. It was a skill he'd been born with and honed to a fine art, the ability to lie and be effortlessly believed.

"None of that is true, is it?" Emil quietly demanded to know. His expression was that of someone who wanted to trust, but wasn't sure whether it was the right idea.

"If I knew why this was happening," Lukas replied, slightly out of breath from the multitude of steps, "I would tell you."

"Hm."

Lukas stopped and put a firm hand on Emil's shoulder, looking him in the eye. Since when was this boy taller, stronger? This boy, that had always been rather small and sickly and scared of the dark – when did he grow up? "You're right not to trust me," he said, "I've told my share of untruths to you."

"It's not that," Emil said. "I can trust a liar to lie. It's when you tell me the truth that problems come up."

Lukas's mouth pressed into a thin line, forever uncertain of how to respond on those rare occasions he was faced with the truth. Lukas's strategies involved blackmail and deceit; right now, the last thing he wanted was to use both. But what other options did he have with the only two people he'd ever trusted without reserve?

Emil took after him far too much for comfort.

"I see," Lukas said, shorthand for _I understand your point and do not wish to reply at this present time; let me get back to you between six months and never._ He turned and continued on their way up the stairwell.

Mathias, when they ran into him, was actually halfway down to find them. "Power's down up top and intellectuals keep trying to get into the office. I'd deal with them, but they're annoyingly good at arguing. Everything okay on your part?" His eyes betrayed what the rest of him would not: that he was concerned, and didn't know what to do.

Slowly, Lukas said, "I need to speak with both of you."

Neither was too surprised.

* * *

**9 – Past**

"Uncle Lukas!"

"I'm-"

"Oi, Lars! Lukas's come over!"

"Peter, I'm not your uncle-"

"Fuck Uncle Lukas, I'm busy."

Lukas scowled; _Väinämöinen's boys were both annoying, but Lars was an outright brat._

"But Lars!" Peter moaned. The shorter red-head flipped him off before going to another room, taking his computer with him. "I'm really sorry about him," Peter apologized, "he's a git."

"I'm used to it," Lukas replied.

"Did Uncle Mathias and Emil come too? Where are they, are they outside?"

"Sorry, Peter. They're not here."

"Oh." Peter's face seemed like it would melt with pure disappointment. Lukas made an honorable attempt to think of something that would dissuade it, but he couldn't think of anything that was an outright lie. Lukas had never been able to lie to young children.

"Where's Vä- ah, Timo?" Lukas asked.

At that moment, Väinämöinen strode into the foyer with a such a smile as only he could wear. "Lukas!" he cheered. "So good to see you, it's been forever!"

"And you, Väinämöinen."

Väinämöinen shook his hand vigorously. "Always so formal. Call me Timo, please!"

"Timo," Lukas said. This was a ritual they went through every time Lukas came to call; Lukas would never simply call him Timo. "How's Berwald? You two married yet?"

"You gossip, Emil told you!"

"It was obvious," Lukas replied.

He must have sounded more bitter than he felt – odd, it was usually the other way around – because Väinämöinen's expression softened. "You ought to come by when he's here, you know. He misses you."

"He and Mathias would kill each other."

"Not Mathias, silly! Though killing each other would be good for them, I bet, get Berwald some exercise. I mean you, personally."

"I'm sorry," Lukas says automatically. He honestly likes Väinämöinen, though he likes Berwald more. "I have an inquiry, however, one that only you can assist me with."

"What's that?"

"It requires your lesser-used talents."

Väinämöinen's eyes twinkled darkly.

* * *

**10 – Present**

They found refuge in one of the chambers containing escape pods. On arriving there Mathias had asked whether or not they shouldn't just deploy them, as each had its own power supply and more lives would be saved. Lukas had said no. Emil had seconded his opinion, offering in ridiculously technical terms why exactly it was a bad idea. It had something to do with no maps and therefore no automatically charted courses through Ginnungagap, which would lead more people to their doom than if they remained on the cruise ship. After all, he pointed out, not every unpowered ship was lost. Occasionally one came through mostly unscathed – that was how their ancestors had travelled.

Mathias lit an electric torch and set it in the center of the room, the yellowish light giving an old and musty air to the room. No one had used electricity in centuries, yet it was still more consistent than what powered the seven galaxies now. "Our ship's down below, on Deck Minus Six," he said. "I know she probably won't last an hour out there, but I'd say it's worth a try. No way I'm gonna sit here and die with the rest."

"I can second that wholeheartedly," Lukas agreed.

"It's not _certain_ we'll die up here, though." Emil's words were careful as he thought, clearly recalling memorized statistics, calculating their last location and the chances of survival. Mathias and Emil would never fail to impress Lukas, with their simple intention to _live_. Several times he could recall where, had it not been for them, it was quite likely that he'd have simply given up. Mathias would never let anything bother him quite so much, and Emil was mature beyond his years.

"The way I see it," Mathias said, "is we either sit here and maybe die, and if we don't then get arrested the minute we get into the Muspell Galaxy. Or we could take our own ship and maybe die, but when we get to Muspell we'll still be our own masters."

"I doubt we're that well known in Muspell, Mathias," Emil replied dryly. "Criminal records tend not to transcend galaxies."

"Do you want to take that chance?"

"If it means food and books then yes."

"Pfft, you and your books."

"Books tend to be more reliable than ships and people," Lukas cut in.

Mathias's and Emil's attentions were shifted to him; Mathias's expression was far more serious than his words. "That's your religion talking, isn't it?" he asked. "All written down in books, generation to generation to generation . . . ."

"You could say that, I suppose," Lukas replied, "though it isn't what I was thinking of."

"Wait, you had something you wanted to tell us," Mathias went on. Then he laughed. "You let me change the subject again, damn you."

Lukas remained silent. Mathias's smile faded as he and Emil waited patiently.

"Gentlemen, this is my fault," he eventually began, "though it would seem I've been upstaged. Mathias, you once asked me long ago what I would do if someone pulled out a contract on myself. I told you, back then, that I would kill the contractor and ignore the order – no point in offing myself at someone else's behest."

Emil's expression darkened, but Mathias simply looked confused. "Lukas, what are you trying to tell us . . . ?"

"There was a reason I was alone when we first met, Mathias, and why I was reluctant to make any ties. You were interesting and I broke the promise I'd made with myself in favor of getting to know you. I've never regretted this decision."

"Until now?"

Lukas held up a finger. "Let me finish. The same thing happened again with Emil; against my better judgment, I let you talk me into keeping him around, and inadvertently began to care for you both far more than I would have wanted. I've never regretted this, either, and in some ways having both of you around has been far more fulfilling than I could have imagined."

"Get to the _point_ ," Emil snapped.

"A man's family is his greatest strength and his greatest weakness," Lukas said. "When forming one, he must take into account that they are now involved in his lifestyle and he in theirs – this is why so many give up their previous occupations and hobbies, things they may have enjoyed, in order to ensure the safety of those they love. I didn't do this, and it has now put both of you at risk.

"Emil's father, his original father – a man named Winter – is a clever man. My compliments to you, Emil, for outsmarting him for this long, but unfortunately the intelligence runs in the family. We weren't unknown in the Nifle Galaxy, and as a privateer for the government, he's been given instructions to have us finally tracked down and killed."

Mathias laughed at that – unsurprising, really. They'd been under the death sentence for years now. "You don't understand," Lukas told him. "You remember the Braginsky organization?"

"Didn't they technically not exist?" Emil asked.

Mathias grimaced. "Eh, you could say that. They were tracked down and slaughtered a little while ago. Didn't know them."

"It was the same man," Lukas went on. "Professionally, it has nothing to do with Emil's identity, and I can't prove that he even knows you still exist."

"I'm over the time limit," Emil said darkly, "he can't lay claim to me anymore."

"Which is why I doubt he knows it's you. I did a bit of research-"

Mathias scoffed. He'd never believed Lukas's research was quite as inactive as the term implied.

"-and found that he doesn't suspect you survived the year-and-a-day law."

"He wouldn't," Emil muttered. It took a lot of animosity, Lukas mused, to continue to hate someone even after eight years.

"Your father," he continued, "has contracted against us as a sick way of doing his job. I told Väinämöinen first. Väinämöinen is a smart man and out of the three people whose judgment I trust in the world, his comes first. He negotiated this job for us within twenty-four hours as a cover for us to move to Muspell. I'm not sure if the engines breaking down is an accident. I'm inclined to believe it's not.

"And that is why we are about to die," Lukas concluded. "Because we were about to die. You need to understand. Had it been just me, I would have ignored it and either fought or welcomed the end. Running away isn't a skill I like to list in my repertoire. I did this for you two."

Lukas sat back then, unconsciously biting his fingernails. Mathias could remember this vice; he'd thought it'd been broken. But in light of the circumstances, Mathias wasn't about to criticize him for it.

Emil sighed, and said, "Someone cares far too much about his paycheck."

Lukas raised an eyebrow. "How do you expect me to recieve-"

"Not you, dumbass," he retorted. "My biological father."

"Oh."

Mathias laughed, though the laugh was a cover for a sort of apprehension he couldn't name. "Well, then. Shit's impressive. I just have one question, Luk."

"Hmm?"

Mathias let himself sound rather bitter as he said, "Why the fuck didn't you tell the two of us?"

"Too risky." Lukas avoided his gaze. "Väinämöinen's boy Peter is currently in the hospital thanks to an attack shortly after the job was struck. I can only assume the conversation was bugged somehow, and the fact that the engines failed. . . it only strengthens my suspicion."

"I see," Mathias said. It bothered him, always bothered him, that Lukas thought withholding information was a valid method of protection. Mathias would rather risk his life than have either Lukas or Emil have to bear a burden alone, but admittedly if he was in Lukas's place, he would have done the same thing. "Well, the way it looks, we have two choices. Stay here and die, or leave and die as we've lived. They both sound pretty bad to me."

"There's a chance we won't die, you know," Emil insisted. "In both circumstances. It's not unheard of, just. . . really, really rare. We're more likely to suffocate than be permanently lost."

"Our higher chance is actually here then, isn't it," Lukas said.

"Yeah."

Mathias leaned back against the wall, kicking his legs out in front of him. "Well, then. Seems we've got a long wait before us."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaand that's it that's the end! i hope you enjoyed, please leave a review with your opinion or with concrit or even just a smiley face thank you o/


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